Wrinkles In Time
by AkashaAvani
Summary: Scenes from Tortall's couples-and some unexpected ones as well: Alanna/George, Daine/Numair, Jon/Thayet, Raoul/Buri and Onua/Sarge. Warning: Content rated M for a reason and unashamed fluff!
1. AlannaGeorge1

**Disclaimer:** I'm not Tamora Pierce (wish I was) and I do not own her books (wish I did).

**A/N: **First fanfic! Hope this goes well! Don't be afraid to request a scene or leave comments. Actually, the latter would be much appreciated. Please try to remember _constructive_ criticism, if you don't mind. Thanks for reading!

Alanna stared down at George, running slender but strong fingers through his honey-blonde locks. "You know I love you, right?" her voice- a voice that had encouraged armies to fight terrifying battles- was soft.  
"If I hadn't known all along ye did, lass, the fact that ye married me only yesterday would have been a clear sign. Now what's brought this on?" His eyes were kind and filled with the adoring love only he could be capable of feeling for her.  
Sighing, she settled down to rest her chin on his broad chest, her glowing purple eyes gazing into his green-hazel ones. "Jon requested I go to the boarder in a fortnight. Something about Scanran raiders."  
"Lass, we've just been wed for a night!" His voice held agitation, something rare due to his calm, unruffled nature.  
Her look was troubled as she bit her lip and twined her fingers in the bed sheets around them. "I know, George."  
"Then tell him no. Tell him he can send someone else or let a village be raided for a month." His accent was thick and he rolled to look down at her. "Tell him to let you be mine for just one month."  
"But what if a village is raided? How can I stand to be responsible for the deaths of all of those innocent people?"  
George sighed, tracing her face with his long fingers. "That's what I love about ye; ye can't stand to let someone be hurt when ye might've been able to do somethin'. Alright," he sounded resigned. "Tell Jon that you'll go. But after that," be cut in sternly, his eyes determined, "yer mine. Even if another band o' miscreants come and loot the palace itself. I mean it. I'll not have me weddin' night disturbed and unaccounted for." With a whoop, Alanna threw her arms around his neck and kissed him soundly.  
The rest of the night was spent making up for the time they'd miss together.

George rested his hands on the railing and leaned into the biting wind that rushed in from sea. It suited his mood, dark as it was. Dammit, he wanted his wife back. Couldn't the world leave be and let them have more'n a night of man and wife? His thoughts dove towards her again. It'd been more than a week after she'd said she'd been gone. What if something had happened? Surely no raider could defeat his Lioness. She'd faced a warmage Duke, a god older than time, saved the king more times than could be counted. Surely no raider could do her in? He pulled his hands through hair that hadn't seen a pillow in days. The bags under his eyes told of times where he'd fallen asleep in his chair, only to awake suddenly when nightmares of her death in countless ways became too much for his subconscious mind to take. "Darlin', come home already. I need you at me side, causin' trouble again." he shut his eyes and pictured her face for the thousandth time. The hair that shone like fire in the bright sunlight, eyes that glowed like amethysts in candlelight, skin that was golden velvet and hid muscles of iron underneath. He heard her laugh, saw her smile and pictured her striding towards him. A feeling came, growing in the back of his mind until he couldn't ignore it anymore. Racing for the front of the castle of Pirates Swoop, he came to the front wall in time to see a traveler in gold armor coming towards the gates. Seeing him in the distance, the rider waved at him. Grinning, he practically flew down the stairs and landed from jumping an entire flight to run towards the warrior. Pulling off the gold helmet, copper fire was revealed and Alanna was plucked off her horse to be kissed with a fire that made the guardsmen all over battlements and walls cheer and whistle. Neither heard as metal was crushed against cloth and lips met with a fury and joy that made them blind and deaf.  
Yelling for the hostler to care for horse, George grinned at Alanna wickedly. Before she could protest he'd hooked an arm around her back and behind her knees and scooped her up and into his arms. "George, put me down! I'll break your back!" she half-laughed, half-yelled, but her traitorous arms had already wrapped around his neck.  
"M'lady, have ye so little faith? I'd sooner drop a babe." He laughed and carried her straight to his lair, where-if he had his wicked way- she'd stay for quite some time. Kicking the door open, he finally set her down, closing it by backing her up and pinning her between it and his body. His mouth crushed down on hers desperately, telling her far more than words could about his state of mind during he last few weeks.  
Framing his face with her hands, she stroked his cheeks and drew back. Puzzlement settled on his face before she started undying the clasps that held her armor together. Desire flared into his eyes and he knelt to start from the bottom. In minutes they had all of the offending metal off and they crashed together again, hurriedly ripping clothing and throwing material right and left as they stumbled towards a bed that seemed miles away. Finally her knees pressed against the edge and she sprawled onto it with George tumbling with her. Rolling over him, she rose up to just stare at him, smoothing her fingers over his lips and brow and cheekbones. "I love you, George Cooper."  
Smiling like the sun had finally risen, he twined his legs with hers and rolled again, pinning her arms above her head and thrusting his tongue inside her mouth to tangle with hers. He pulled his lips back far enough to whisper, "I love you, too, my Lioness. So much," his voice was hoarse and his eyes stung as he gazed down at her. She inhaled swiftly; she knew he was baring himself to her, opening up to her as he did with no one else. She could see all the aching tenderness, fierce protectiveness, overwhelming love and the fear that one day she wouldn't come back. Her own violet eyes blurred and she held him close, kissing him-soothing him-as she let rare tears leak from her eyes. Her hands traced his back and her lips rubber softly, easing his tense muscles and tight hands. "I'm won't leave you, George. Ever. The Dark God will have to pry my hands off you, because I won't leave." Her eyes were fierce and determined as they stole into his.  
He grinned, running his lips from her earlobes to her closed lids, down her tear-stained cheeks to her lips, brushing back and forth tenderly. His large hands cupped her breasts, his thumbs rubbing the sensitive tips and causing her to sigh contentedly. Grinning, he lowered his head to take one into his mouth, suckling tightly. Her eyes flew open and her hands clutched his back as she made a sound in her throat that made his body harden in response.  
His hands traveled lower, catching her knees and bending them so his hand could cup her heat. Another groan tore through her and the cradle of her hips moved restlessly against his, arousing him further. His thumb came to play around the sensitive nub hidden in her folds and she gasped and arched against his palm in time to his loving circles. He tugged her nipple with his teeth at the same time he flicked his thumb over her clit, and she shuddered in his arms, crying out and raking her nails down his back. Growling, he traveled down still, lifting her hips and plunging his tongue inside of her, making her scream and clutch his hair in her fingers, bucking under his mouth. "George!" her rasping shout echoed off the bedroom's stone walls. His tongue flicked in and out and around, sending eclectic zings through her body and quickening her breath. The air in he room clogged in her throat and heated unbearably, until for a third time she cried out. His face glowed as he raised his head to look down at her flushed body. Creeping up her small frame, he framed her face and kissed her hungrily, groaning deep in his throat as she plunged her tongue into his mouth at the exact moment her fingers closed around him, stroking masterfully. Her other hand came to brush against the top of his head, causing him to throw his head back and rock against her fingers. "Goddess, Alanna!" he cursed, feeling his shaft harden until he thought he'd burst through his skin. The agony/pleasure tensed every muscle in his body in anticipation, his pleasure heightening to unbelievable levels and- she stopped. He swore loudly as she chuckled and set his body into overdrive; he had to be inside her that instant. Gripping her hips, he thrust inside her and both of them shouted, nearly coming at just that. Within seconds she clutched his hair and pulled his mouth to hers as her body spasmed around his. His hoarse shout followed quickly, rocking them both. George buried his head in the crook of her neck as her body continued to quake. He stroked her hair, she his back, until they fell into a deep, contented slumber, bodies intertwined.


	2. AlannaGeorge2

﻿George and Alanna decided to take a stroll through the village and along the rocky beach for part of the day before their anniversary. In a light summer dress the color of sunlit amethysts that matched her eyes, she looked beautiful to him. His heart thrilled at seeing her in something so womanly. Goddess knew he loved his Woman Who Rides Like A Man, but he loved the rare treats of seeing his woman as a woman.  
As they strolled down the cobbled streets, they paused to buy trinkets and knick-knacks, a weakness of hers on occasion. Green eardrops, a gold chain necklace, a bronze hoop for his ear, then a kitten who was so adorable neither could resist. With the small furry ball curled in the basket along with their prizes, they dined in soft candlelight at a charming inn and walked along the beach hand in hand, stopping every so often to kiss gently, or just to sit in the sand and watch the gulls wing overhead. It was sunset when they came across the small family, a mother and father strolling with a child swinging between them. The red-headed toddler squealed as it was lifted high and set down with the next step. When the father turned and swept the babe up to toss it up and catching the squealing child, the copper-locked mother came close and tickled their boy until his giggles were breathless. Cradling him close, the father leaned in and kissed the woman happily, lingering to nibble on her lips. Leaning closer, the woman whispered something in his ear and his blonde-streaked head came up sharply. The child raised his arms and the mother picked him up and settled him close to their faces, saying something. The boy squealed and the man's hand touched her belly, green-hazel eyes filled with wonder and joy as he looked into glowing purple ones.  
As fast as the family had appeared, it dissolved, leaving Alanna and George staring in wonder. They'd talked about children, but now it seemed perfect. Smiling with eyes filled with hope, Alanna lifted the charm for protection against pregnancy- and dropped it into the sand. With a shout of joy, George wasted no time in lowering her to the sand and creating his first child.  
A month later, Alanna leaned down after another round of heated lovemaking and whispered something into his ear. George looked shocked, thrilled, then completely filled with joy as his hands rested on her belly and he kissed her, murmuring in between, "IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou."

Alanna woke eight months later to a strange wet feeling and a rippling pain in her stomach. In less than three seconds knowledge kicked in and she shook George. "George, George, wake up! My water's broke! Wake up!"  
With a jolt he jumped out of bed and carried her from the room, running towards the birthing room and shouting for the midwife, who had stayed close at hand the past few weeks.  
In what seemed like a blur George was shoved out by a kind woman with a take-charge attitude. Servants rushed in and out the door for hot water, fresh towels, ice chips and such. They never let him know what how his wife was fairing, just patted his shoulder.  
An hour later his panicked mind was in chaos, praying, bargaining, pleading for his love to be okay. He heard a shout of pain and then a baby's wail and his knees gave out, plunking him into a chair. The midwife came out and he rushed inside, straight to his pale wife. "Lass," he whispered achingly, stroking wet hair back from her face.  
"Look," she whispered, pointing weakly towards the babe in the arms of the midwife. Swallowing the lump that threatened to choke him, he awkwardly cradled his newborn babe. A look at Alanna had her smiling. "Thom. Thom Trebond Cooper." Worshipping eyes gazed down at the tiny infant, now sleeping. George hadn't thought he could live any more than he did already for her, it he felt his heart grow, enclosing this tiny wonder and expand until he ached with bow much he loved them. He kissed the downy head and set his son in the cradle next to the bed, turning to her once more. His heart stopped.  
Her head had lolled to the side, eyes open and unseeing and blood covered the sheets in a growing red stain. A hoarse shout broke out from his core and he shook her shoulders, then clasped her tight against him and rocked while tears escaping his eyes. "Lass, Alanna, wake up. Don't do this. Don't leave!" The midwife rushed in with another healer and he was shoved aside as they gripped both of her hands. Maroon and sky blue magic curled around their hands and spread over her. His heart kicked in his throat and he stared numbly as they tried to heal her. His thoughts came seemingly in slow motion, but each lasted only a moment.  
I can't lose her. She can't leave. Don't go. Please, let her live. Don't let this be it.  
As despair settle on him, the healer broke away, stumbling, followed by the shuddering woman. George raced forward, gripping Alanna's hand. The healer pit a shaking hand on the younger man's shoulder. "She'll live. The bleeding was stopped and she'll wake in some time with no pain." At a look from the midwife, he continued. "She'll be able to have more children, of course. Don't fret about that." Nodding his reassurance, they left, leaving a shaken-to-his-soul George alone with the body of his love.  
It wasn't long before she opened her eyes, looking around before becoming snared on ragged, blazing green ones. Terror had changed George's eyes pure, dark green. "George," she rasped, and her hand fluttered weakly against his rigedly locked jaw. With a shudder, he sobbed against her palm and pressed it closer, kissing the center. Never before had she seen him so shaken, so terrified. "Easy, love. I'm here. Don't cry so," she soothed, pulling him down to cradle his head against her breast. She stroked his hair until the sobs had died into echoing shakes.  
"You died! You..." he stopped, shutting his eyes against the memory burned into his mind. "You pointed to him and when I turned you were dead. I can't lose you," he whispered, looking into her eyes. Her breath caught at the agony in them. "Don't go where I can't, Alanna. I love you more than life. You are my life."  
Crying now, she pressed her lips to his and tasted his tears mixed with hers. "I promised I wouldn't. I'm not going anywhere." Smiling at him, she pointed towards the still-sleeping babe. "Bring him over and let me see our family." When he placed the tiny boy in her arms, her heart felt enormous and aching. She raised eyes to his and found the same. "Perfect." She drew George down to lie next to her and rested her head on his shoulder while cradling their son. She felt his hand stroke her hair and she sighed, falling asleep. "I love you, George. I'll never leave you alone. You or our son."  
She heard right before she drifted off his low rumble. "I love ye too, lass. So much. I won't let ye go. Ye or our lad. That I promise." Clasping his arms tight around her and anchoring his hands in her nightgown, he fell asleep with her head on his shoulder, his son close to his heart, and the legs of man and wife tangled together; no one was in danger of slipping away.


	3. AlannaGeorge3

Alanna's shout echoed throughout the halls of Pirates Swoop. "George? Thom? Aly? Alan?" Her footsteps rang through the halls filled with villagers from the nearby village gathered within he Swoop's walls for protection against the Carthaki invaders. She'd ridden home like a woman possessed after hearing the news, and even now, when she could see others alive, her heart still hammered.  
She turned a corner and ran straight into a broad-shouldered figure who caught her in tight arms. She'd know that embrace if she were dead. Choking back tears, she wrapped her arms around her husband and shuddered. "When I heard an entire fleet was here..." She choked on tears and George tightened his hold on her.  
"I know, lass. It's what I live with every time ye go off to battle some enemy." His lips pressed I to her hair before his hand came up to lift her head. He plundered her mouth with his, ferociously reassuring them both that each was alive.  
Suddenly the air was filled with shrieks, and both Alanna and George jumped apart, ready for battle, hands on sword and knife handles. "MamaMamaMama!" Three shapes were hurtling themselves towards her and the warrior sank to her knees in relief. Her children- a copper-locked boy and two honey-blonde twins - launched themselves at her, covering her with kisses and tears and snotty noses ad she clutched them to her, kissing tousled heads and pink blotched cheeks.  
"Babies, oh, sweetlings, I missed you so!" George knelt down beside the group, wrapping his long arms around his entire family- his entire world.  
"MamaMama! There was a dragon and fireballs and-"  
"Daine went right up to this huge beast off and-"  
"Animals helped fight the bad men and the evil metal bird-things!"  
Alanna laughed, looking down at each of her babes. "One at a time, please! I canna think with all of ye talkin' at once, me little ones," she said, faking an extremely accurate accent that was identical to the one her husband spoke with, lilting and all. George laughed and the children all raised eager voices, this time in single file, if hurriedly and one right after the other. Alanna laughed and hugged them closer. "What an adventure! And I didn't even get to be there for it! Next time Mama promises to be there for such a grand, exciting event," she said it jokingly, but her voice hid relieved eyes that looked promisingly at George. He closed the distance over their young ones and kissed her soundly.  
"That's a promise," he whispered. The babes groaned in unison and were attacked and properly tickled by the grown-ups. Everything was well, safe and sound at Pirates Swoop once more.

**A/N:** That's probably it for Alanna and George! If you'd like a specific scene, feel free to request it! In the meantime, on to Daine and Numair! Thanks for reading snippets from the Lioness and the Rogue!


	4. DaineNumair1a

**A/N:** Sorry in advance, but this first scene between Daine and Numair _had _to be broken into two sections. Hope you enjoy!

The Third Rider division traveled down the well worn, wide path of the forest silently. They'd been called just the day before to respond to a plea for help in a small village called Moreland, a days ride from Pirates Swoop. Rumor was spreading that flesh-eating unicorns had appeared, as well as the breed of centaurs that feasted for war and blood. When the village had been attacked and cases of unicorn fever had developed for the first times in centuries, the Third Riders had been the only troop ready to assemble and leave immediately. Because of the specific creatures, Daine and Numair had been called upon.  
The entire time while packing Numair had attempted to convince her to stay. "Would you please just think about it?" he asked, his tone sounding like he knew he'd have better luck bouncing his head off a wall. It wasn't too far from reality, with her stubborn ways. "If you get injured-and knowing your luck with wild creatures, they'll come straight for you first- then there will be no one to communicate with all of the other immortals. Tortall needs you to stay here." _I_ need you to stay here- but he didn't say that. Doubtless she'd laugh or think him addled.  
"Numair, I have to go! If there's a chance that they can be reasoned with-"  
"Reasoned with? Do you hear that?" the mage yelled at the ceiling. "Reasoning. With flesh-eating unicorns and centaurs. Demons that live to kill and destroy! Daine, the reason they were created was to kill. They cannot be reasoned with! They have no capability of such thoughts!" His hands grasped her shoulders, and however much his voice may have raised, those hands were still gentle.  
"Well," Daine huffed angrily, pushing his hands aside, "at he moment, neither can you, so there's no use for this conversation!" At his wounded look, she stopped and sighed. "I'm sorry, that was uncalled for. Numair, you have to think of this from my view. If there is anything that I can do to help, I have to be there. Please tell me you understand." Her endless sea-storm eyes searched his.  
Resigning himself to the fact that it would probably be impossible to say no to her now anyway, he shook his head, putting a hand on her shoulder and bending down until they were eye-to-eye. "Magelet, if you get hurt..." he couldn't continue. His eyes said it, though, and Daine paused at the emotion she read in them. Surely that wasn't... She shook the silly thought of unnamed emotions off and smiled gently at him.  
"I'll be fine, you'll see. Besides," she added, grinning, "I have Tortall's most powerful mage to protect me!"  
"Yours is a happy nature," he muttered, ruffling her hair all the same.

The Third Riders, plus the two mages, Sir Raoul of Goldenlake, the Lioness, Onua and Sarge, had just entered a clearing when a rumbled passed through the land. Instantly Buri knew what was about to happen. "Riders, arm!" she shouted, drawing her own weapons. Evin Larse was the leader of the squad and took position next to Buri. "Riders, positions," he said. His voice might have been much softer than the K'mir's, but those who heard it trusted that command with their lives. The group of warriors settled in a circle, enclosing Numair, Daine and Alanna, much to her protest.  
"We'll need that fandangled Gift of yours, if I'm right," the slightly taller woman said.  
Daine looked uncomfortable. "Please, can I at least have a chance to speak with them? They may be just like the griffins!" Her eyes pleaded with the commander's.  
"If they stop when you ask from inside this circle, then you may step forward." Numair didn't look at ease with this, but Buri settled him. "If we can avoid bloodshed, then I'm willing to try." He didn't look appeased by this, but neither did he say anything against it. Daine put a hand on his arm and smiled at him comfortingly. His heart skipped a beat in its already fast rhythm and he closed his eyes, putting his hand over hers and squeezing. Don't let her be hurt, he prayed.  
When the herd of centaurs emerged, javelins pointed, Daine drew her magic close and threw it out like a net, hoping to make them pause. 'Please, stop!' The half-horse, half-human creatures came to an abrupt halt.  
'Who dares to speak to us as kin?' The deep, enraged voice came from a large stallion, his hide and skin the color of sunlit dark chocolate. His long black hair was in twisted clumps- dreadlocks, Daine remembered they were called. Evin and Buri parted, letting Daine step forth. Numair tried to follow, but Alanna held him back.  
"Let her try," the Lioness whispered. The mage's face tightened and hardened into impotent rage and fear.  
'I do, sir. Please, you must stop fighting. It will only bring death, to the people you kill and to your herd. Please, don't let it come to that!'  
She stepped forward and the stallion did the same. Shifting his feet agitatedly, his tail swishes in quick flicks. 'You are a foal. Who are you to speak to one such as me?' His blade pointed at her heart, stopping her advance. Several of the Riders made noise, but Buri held her hand out.  
'I know I'm only a filly, but please, listen to what I say. Fighting like the way your herd has will only bring pain in the end. If you will speak with my leaders, they are more than willing to help you find a home that you would like. You wouldn't have to fight or kill, and the humans would leave you alone. Just please, speak with us.' Blue-grey eyes met black ones and held.  
The leader made a noise of agreement in her mind and she smiled hopefully. She turned towards Buri to tell her he news – and heard a shout of fear. In the blink of an eye she saw Numair thrust his hand out and heard Alanna's cry. Within a heartbeat she turned, just as fire ripped through her stomach, and met the dirty white of a unicorn's coat. Even as she fell, she saw it rear up, bloody horn gleaming, saw the hooves come down towards her to finish the kill. A black cloud sparkling with silver veins wrapped around the monster and threw it into the herd of white horse-like creatures emerging from another side of the clearing. Daine's last sight was of Numair running towards her, shouting something frantically, but she couldn't hear. Only his lips moving rapidly and the terror on his face was something she could understand. Then a black fog overtook her and she sank into a deep chasm.

"NO!" Numair's voice was the first heard, seeing the unicorn charging from the right side of the clearing towards Daine. He threw his hand out to stop it, but he was a second too late. He watched in agony as the deadly poisonous horn pierced the front of her just as she turned and emerged, horrifyingly covered in her blood, out her back. His rage and terror for her amounted in the blink of an eye and before he could think of what he was doing, his magic sped out of his body to wrap the beast in his grasp, crushing it and tossing it aside. Roaring, he ran towards her as a battle raged around him. The only thing that mattered was reaching her. Daine. His student, friend. His Magelet. His love. He dropped to his knees beside her, realizing just then the full depth of his feelings for her. This wasn't some idiotic attraction he'd been trying to squash- he loved her. And she was dying before him. He looked into her eyes and saw unimaginable pain before her eyes rolled and her head slumped to the side.  
His fury erupted and he picked her up, determined to reach Alanna. Somehow, some way, they would cure her. He refused to let her die because she was too caring. Numair stood with his limp beloved in his arms and walked with a terrifying coldness in his step. Any creature that dared to step in his way was suddenly torn to pieces, looking like they had been ripped apart from the inside out. A terrible black and silver cloud settled over Numair and his charge, and any who lived long enough to touch it died within agonizing seconds, leaving charred and smoking ashes remaining.  
The Lioness turned from her opponent in time to see the tall, lanky mage stride towards her. Something in his face stopped her from saying it was too late. There was something beneath the cold mask, something that spoke to something matching in her- her love for George. For whatever reason, she knew this was right. Numair Salmalin, one of the most powerful people in the world, was head over heals for this young girl. Not knowing how to respond, Alanna put those thoughts away for a much later moment, when she could puzzle them out at length. At this second, she instinctively knew that if she told Numair she couldn't heal Daine right at that second, she might not live very long indeed. Something about his black eyes caught at her heart- they were the only part of him that showed the agony and desperation raging inside of him. Moving to take the child away, she halted when the barrier between him and the outside world remained.  
"Numair," she said softly, "I can't heal her if you won't let me see her. Set her down and protect me while I work, alright?" She used her most soothing voice, let it sink into his mind until the words made sense again. Reason appeared in his eyes and he sank down, laying Daine in between him and Alanna, and raised his arms to create a dome that protected them from any and all harm.  
"If you need energy, take it," he whispered raggedly. "I know... I know how Unicorn Fever effects the body." Kills the body, he refused say.  
The look in the Lioness's purple eyes was enough to have the breath stilling in his lungs. He was going to lose her. 'Please, please, please,' he prayed in his mind, 'Let her live.'  
He watched over the two women for hours, knowing that with each passing moment his Daine was slipping farther and farther away from him. When he could take it no more he raked his hands through his hair, catching the tie and sending it flying behind him, unnoticed. Raoul saw this as he unbent from entering the tent that had been erected around the trio. He stopped, analyzing the fact that Numair would be so upset as to be visibly trembling and uncaring if anyone saw.  
"Numair," he said softly, lest he brake Alanna's concentration. "You know what always happens now. The most we can hope is that she dies quickly and with little pain." The look on the mage's face made him stop. Absolute agony spread across his features, his black eyes glittering with pain.  
"This is all my fault," he rasped and his knees gave out. The knight caught him and settled him outside the tent where the fresh air would do him good.  
"You couldn't have known this would happen any more than you could stop the tides."  
"I told her not to come. I've had dreams the entire past week and I didn't listen. I thought that with all my magic," he sneered in self-loathing, "I could stop anything from happening to her. Now she's dying because of my inflated ego and the fact that I couldn't say no and hold my ground for once." He lowered his head into his hands. "What am I going to do?" he whispered so softly Raoul would have thought he'd imagined it, had he not possessed exceptional hearing.  
Putting a comforting hand on the taller man's shoulder, he gripped hard, as if to transfer much needed strength. A thought hit him then- Numair hadn't mourned for the loss of his parents when the letter had come from an old family friend in Tyra. But here the man was, grieving as if his heart was shattering at the loss of a student he'd known for only a handful of years. There was something more than the two had let on, sure as the Hag cheated.  
"Numair, what is there between you and the little lady?" he asked gently.  
A shocked head came up and broken eyes looked into his. "What do you mean?"  
Raoul sighed and decided patience was best. "I'm no fool, and we've been friends for longer than I can remember. As far back as my memory goes, I've never seen you upset to any degree before. Not when your parents died, not when I first saw you and you were about to be beaten, robbed and murdered- not ever. Now... you look as if a harsh wind would blow you over. Why is that- what goes on that neither of you told your friends?"  
"I'm in love with her."  
The words were uttered so simply that Raoul choked in disbelieving indignation. "You jest when her life-"  
"It's no jest!" Tears clogged his throat and his head bowed down again. "I… I thought that if I said anything, she would reject the notion outright. Why wouldn't she? I'm much older than she is, I happen to have an… ill reputation in Carthak, and I'm her mentor. For what reason could she _possibly_ return my feelings?"  
Raoul paused to digest this. They did spend the vast majority of their time together, after all. And Numair was not the type to force himself on people- he would never harm her.

The more he thought about it, the more he saw that the love was not one-sided. He'd often caught Daine stealing glances at Numair, but had thought it had something to do with something Numair had said, or a private joke, or some other reason to that point.

Actually, the two of them fit nicely, he thought with a slight grimace; he was becoming an old spinster, matchmaking in his mind. True, Numair was 14 years her senior, but it wasn't unheard of for marriages to have such an age difference. And if they were in love... Goddess, no wonder the man was such a mess.  
"Numair, you know that the Fever-"  
"I know!" he shouted. Black and silver fire erupted at his hands and raced up his arms. The big man jerked his hand back just in time to avoid getting maimed in some mysterious, most likely extremely painful way. Instantly Numair looked horrified and the magic/fire disappeared. "I'm sorry," he said in a dazed voice. "I don't know what came over me."  
"The-" girl? Woman? "one you love is..." he couldn't be as cruel as to say it.  
"I know." It was a whisper this time, but even so Raoul felt the sorrow before Numair stood and walked away. Raoul looked up at the sky and a troubled sigh escaped him. 'Please, Goddess,' his mind whispered, 'Don't let Daine die.'

Alanna stumbled out of the tent at dusk, pale as snow beneath her tan and unable to stand without help from Raoul. "I did what I could," she said, looking sorrowfully at Numair. "I swear I've done everything I can. The infection was burned out, but Numair... she's dying." Alanna collapsed against her friend, shaking with quiet tears.  
Numair felt numb as he walked into the tent. It was swelteringly hot, unbearably so, but even the heat couldn't stop the chills that racked Daine. Seeing her like this brought a lump to his throat that couldn't be swallowed. He believed Alanna when she said she'd done everything in her power to save her, but he couldn't bear to watch his Magelet go through this.  
Her skin was even paler than Alanna's and tinged with grey, her hair limp and lifeless, her lips blue and the quakes that racked her shook her entire body. Suddenly she cried out, and the scream tore through Numair like shrapnel. He lunged forward, taking her into his arms and holding her close to murmur nonsense in her ear. Crooning gibberish in an attempt to soothe her, he cradled her close and rocked back and forth. This seemed to pacify her, or at least enough so that she stopped thrashing about and settled into his arms.  
Numair still quaked. If the infection had been burned off and she was still going into deliriums, he knew she was truly dying. And that, above all else, he could not allow.  
Gathering his magic to create a speech-spell, he started his way through the list of the many people he knew. Surely, among all of Tortall, Carthak and Tyra someone knew of a way to cure the incurable. With one last kiss to her forehead he left the tent, preparing himself for a long night of endless work.


	5. DaineNumair1b

﻿  
Daine knew nothing of the torment in the outer world. All she knew was the agony and terror that consumed her every waking minute. For a change of pace a terror about Stormwings changed to a calm, serene forest. She waited for some horror to play out before her- perhaps some form of torture, like feeling her entire body turn to stone, or poison make her blood fire. Or maybe her friends out die because she hadn't stopped the centaurs and unicorns, or Stormwings had come and eaten them alive. No, worse, every person she knew was eaten by a giant creature right in front of her because they each cared for her.

But the tranquility of the glade stayed and out came the waddling figure with black and white fur and long, nasty claws. The animal-god stopped and rose to its hind legs to stalk towards her menacingly. "You silly cub! I could sink my teeth into you right now! Do you know what you've done? Why you're here?" The badger god's voice rose to a level that hurt Daine's ears, just like the griffin's. She flinched and he lowered his voice- but only slightly. "Daine, you are here because your body is _dying_. Just like when you tried to hear the dolphins. Yes, I know about that," he muttered when she looked shocked. "And let me tell you, your da was _not_ happy with me." He shuffled around, looking agitated for all his furry features.

"And now, _now_, how am I supposed to tell him why you're here? Because you thought you could reason with the unreasonable!" The words Numair had used came back and stung. She should've listened to him! How was everyone reacting? Would they miss her? But she didn't have much time to dwell on these thoughts as Badger kept ranting. "-so I have to tell him. Or, wait, nonono. Hmm, it would be difficult, but…" his eyes took on a crafty look. "Daine, I have figured out how to keep you alive. Now, I have no idea whether this will work, they're very difficult to find. We'll have to have some serious help from others here, but as the Dark God hasn't claimed you and the Greater Gods haven't deemed to notice your presence, you don't belong here." Daine didn't understand. "Daine, we're going to get help. We're going to need your wild magic, but we're going to find the one and only cure to the poison of the Unicorn Fever."

"Really?" For the first time she paid full attention and her face lit up.

"Yes, really. Do you know what can heal anything?" She shook her head. "The tear of a phoenix."

Her heart plummeted. She'd been told enough stories by Grandda to know that the phoenix was a very shy bird, not coming out unless it was truly, truly needed. Unless the heart of the caller was pure. Would it work?

As if hearing her thoughts, Badger's muscles bunched up without her noticing and the next thing she knew she was underneath a massive weight of angry badger god. One who's breath made her _wish_ for death. "Now stop. I know that look, missy. You'll not foul all my work because of one stupid mistake. Now come," he ordered, getting off her so that she could finally breathe. "We'll go to Nesting Point and settle this right out." Without any further explanation a silver mist enveloped them and she had to throw herself backwards to keep from teetering off the edge of the cliff. "Damn, I always misjudge that," the beast god muttered. Daine dared to turn and glower at him. He shrugged it off and turned to look at the sky spread out before them.

Daine was suddenly very glad she was on solid ground; the fall was a very, very long one indeed. She felt like she could see _everything_ here. Birds-thousands, millions of them- weaved in a complicated, intricate knot that seemed mesmerizing and beautiful. "Holy Goddess," she whispered.

Badger grunted. "Yes, but finding a _phoenix_ in all of _that_ will not be easy. It's bad enough that you couldn't avoid getting maimed, you had to do it on a day that all of the Great Birds did their dance. Hrumph," he scowled. "Silly twitter beasts. Well, go on," he said abruptly, looking to her expectantly. "Call it."

"But I don't know how," Daine whispered, looking back out at all of the immortal bird creatures.

"Same way you did the centaurs. Just… reach." The god motioned with his paws flicking forward, pads down, as if to say 'hurry up.'

With a deep breath, Daine gathered her magic close and realized that here her magic wasn't a deep well; it was an ocean, endless, vast and magnificent. She had to sit down, lest she fall, and reach with just a few magical fingers, rather than a strong grip. Immediately a net more than capable of spanning the swarms of birds flew from her to settle gently over them. 'Excuse me,' she called. The voices that had stayed in the back of her mind came to the forefront, threatening to drown her or drive her mad. 'Shh, gently. I'm sorry to bother you, but I'm looking for a phoenix. It's very important.' Daine felt like a fool, trying to summon a creature that only came to the most worthy. She turned back to Badger after a moment. "I don't think it will work. My Grandda said that a phoenix will only- " she stopped at his look. Whirling around, she beheld a sight that was… she couldn't describe it.

The bird was enormous, easily ten feet tall. The wings that settled around its body had to be at least twice that, maybe even quadruple. But it was the feathers that caught the eye and held it. Each individual feather glowed, like its own mini sun, radiant in oranges and yellows and the occasional red, white and bronze. She even got hints of blue near the joints. The talons and bones inside the sun-feathers were silver, but the eyes were like molten mercury with the moon mixed in. The silver-white swirled every shade of grey and white over and over, a dizzying sight to behold.

Daine strengthened her resolve and bowed deeply before the magnificent bird. 'I'm really terribly sorry to disturb you, and I know that I may not deserve it, but… please, I need a tear.' Immediately she regretted blundering her words so much, knowing she must sound like a bumbling village girl. 'My friends-defenders of Tortall- and I were trying to make peace with a herd of centaurs and flesh-eating unicorns, but something went wrong. I think… I think one of the unicorns injured me with its horn, and now I can't get home. Please, do you think you could help me? I just want to go home.' She looked up then, wanting to at least see it when it surely would dismiss her.

'Child,' said a powerful, soothing voice. 'You have come a long way. You doubt much about yourself, but I can see inside of you. Veralidaine Sarrasri, you are wild mage and woman-child, friend and protector. You are pure of heart.' The voice was female, and Daine felt as though she were being wrapped up in a hug that was like the ones her ma used to give her. The feeling brought tears to her own eyes as she looked up those of the phoenix's. 'You are granted a tear.' Daine watched in awe as a drop of glistening blue/grey/white/silver beaded in the bird's eye and fell onto Daine's head, where it washed over her face and eased some ache she hadn't realized she carried. 'Go home, child.'

Badger rose up and waddled over to the motionless, speechless girl. "Well, that went exceptionally well. The last person that came here was said to have been ripped to pieces and burnt to a crisp!"


	6. DaineNumair1c

"There's nothin' t'be heard on my watch," the man with a deep, lilting brogue said. He was tall, broad shouldered, with a long hooked nose and eyes that usually sparkled with ill-disguised mischief, but now were solemn and quiet. "If there's a cure, none of the Court have heard a thing."  
Numair sighed, knowing of wasn't George's fault no one could find an answer. He just wished someone would find some sort of cure! "Thank you, George. I'll let you get some rest before your wife finds out I've kept you up so."  
A soft, partially-forced laugh escaped the ex-Rogue. "Aye, I wouldn't like to see that either. But Numair," he said, sobering again, "if there isn't a way to make her better-"  
Numair cut him off. He couldn't bear to hear such things right now. "There has to be. The alternative is unthinkable."  
George sighed himself and nodded. "May the Crooked God show favor on ye then. Goddess knows yer going to need it."  
The speech-spell closed and Numair threw himself back into his books with a desperation borne of necessity. He had mages, healers, scholars, even royalty in two different realms! There must be some sort of cure- be it toe of dog or a rare plant only found in the realms of the Gods. He was willing to do anything for her.

Something caught at his attention and he looked down at something sparkling on his desk. It was a box, and he knew immediately what housed it. Picking it up, he opened it and a note spilled out.

_Numair_

_I trust this will fit the idea that you had. I'm terribly sorry it had to come at such a time. The picture will never fade, nor will the locket break. Seek peace, my friend._

_Volney Rain_

Numair's eyes misted as he lifted the delicate oval locket out of the box. With the press of a thumb it opened smoothly to reveal a sight that took his breath. Volney had outdone himself. The picture was priceless, setting Daine's face in early morning light and making it glow, her blue-grey eyes sparkling with life. Even her curls sprung with passion and a zest for life. The mage could take it no more as he took out the small lock of hair that he'd taken earlier. How could he manage to get past this? Why did he feel as if his entire world was shattering? Spelling the hair so it would forever stay inside the locket and in as perfect condition as it was now, he shut it and hid it. He put his elbows on the desk and sank his head into his hands, trying to put his mind back together. It felt as if everything were shattered.

"Numair?" A sweet voice called from the flap that joined his tent and Daine's. He groaned, rubbing his face with his palms as if it would scrub away the insanity leaking into his brain.

"Why can't you leave me alone? Is it not bad enough that she is dying and I cannot find anything to help her? Why must you mock me like this?" His voice was ragged and torn.

It had finally happened; his sanity had slipped and he was no longer walking the edge of madness, he was falling into a twisted kingdom.

"Numair, look at me." Daine's beloved voice called again, closer this time, and he felt the touch of her work-roughened hands against his. The fake Daine pulled his hands away and he let it, if only to look at her again. The sight made his brow V together. Surely the Gods would at least allow her to look as she once had been, when she was full of life… right? Her hair was damp, matted from fever sweat, her skin white-but with no tinge of grey- and her eyes had lost the glazed look. "You call me Magelet, you were stuck as a hawk when we met, you put the white wall between my Self and my magic so I wouldn't go crazy again. Why would I say these things if I wasn't real?"

Reality sank in slowly, and Numair stood inch by inch with it. His hands came to her face, feeling her cheeks, her eyelids, her nose and finally her mouth. As his thumb brushed over her full lower lip his brain kicked in. He ran from her to the tent flap, peering into the much hotter tent. The bed was messy, as if a war had been fought in it, but _empty_. Joy split across his features and he spun around to pick her up in his arms, spinning her around and around. "You're alive! You're back! You're… you're alive!" Numair's highly intelligent mind was shortcut as relief and bliss settled into him.

Daine laughed and wrapped her arms around his neck, laying her head on his shoulder. "But…" his voice grew somber and his eyes turned worried. "Daine, how are you here? Are you completely healed? What happened?"

Chuckling, she covered his mouth with a hand to silence him. "If you'd stop for a moment, I'll explain. Yes, I'm completely healed. I was dying. But Badger saved me- no, wait. He brought me to a phoenix, who saved me."

Curiosity and wonder bloomed over his face. "What? You met a phoenix? How did it heal you?" He stopped when Daine arched a brow. "I'm sorry. You were saying?" he smiled at her.

"Badger took me to this place called Nesting Point, and there were all these birds. But Badger said I had to call for a phoenix and I did. I didn't think it would come, cause Grandda told me that only the pure of heart can call, and it would only shed a tear with someone who _really_ needed it. But it did, and I explained that I just wanted to go home, and… well… here I am."

Numair looked like he wanted to ask more, but she yawned, feeling suddenly tired. "I'm sorry, Magelet. Of course you're exhausted. Come on, let's get you to bed." Instead of carrying her to her cot, where he feared she might somehow catch the Fever again, he placed her on his, which looked like it hadn't been slept on in days- which it hadn't. He settled her down into the sheets and pulled it up to her chin, smiling. "Sleep well, Daine. I'll let the others know you're okay. I'll also let that mule hiding as a horse know as well," he grumbled, unconsciously rubbing his arm. Daine chuckled, knowing Cloud had undoubtedly bitten him there.

"Thanks, Numair," she said, but she was so sleepy the last word came out as Nummy. Closing her eyes, she was instantly asleep.

'Nummy' beant down and kissed her forehead, eyes full of soft love. "You're welcome, Magelet," he whispered, and blew out the candles with a wave of his hand.

**A/N:** Hurray! The first scene is FINALLY DONE! I love it, but _damn_ did that thing take forever! Hopefully the next one won't take so long otherwise I'll _never _get to any other stories! :D See ya soon!


	7. DaineNumair2

Numair Salmalin, noted scholar, most powerful mage in all of Tortall, was having what could only be described as a _fit_.

"Daine, you're not going!" The exceptionally tall, somewhat lanky man paced away from the window to the fireplace, to the opposite wall, and back to the window again. Large hands raked through long black hair, tearing the leather tie and leaving the always-pristine hair looking disheveled. His face was nearly heart shaped, with high cheekbones, a thin nose, and firm lips. The eyes that blazed a deep ebony and was the only part that showed his hawk-self.

"You're not going," he repeated, but whether it was for her benefit now or his, neither could tell.

The girl sighed and leaned back in her chair, the picture of someone waiting for an ill-behaving child to stop throwing a tantrum that had happened many times before. The picture wasn't far from the mark, in her mind. "Numair, we've argued about this before," she said calmly. The tone only proved to fuel his temper.

"Yes, and what happens when I give in?" He whirled to look at his beautiful, young, talented lover, his partner in life. At nineteen, Veralidaine Sarrasri was unmistakably exquisite. Her skin wasn't white, nor was it black by any means, but seemed to imitate the rich smoothness of caramel under the sun's tanning rays. Her nose was rounded and set over full, entirely too generous lips that he knew for a fact were softer than any cloud or feather bed. Her cheekbones were round, not sharp like most from her country, and masked the stubborn chin most of the time. It was her eyes that held people, though. Those eyes were truly windows to her soul, a kind stormy-sea blue-grey that let people see how giving she was of herself and how strong she was. The combination was irresistible, and Numair had scared off more than one charming young man who thought he'd take advantage of her soft looks.

But none of that was important now, he inwardly growled to himself. What was important here and now was that the chit thought that she would go off and fight another battle! "Daine, you have to see this from my perspective. You've nearly died a dozen times now!"

"That's not true. It's only been a handful of times," she joked softly. The attempt at humor earned her a scowl. "Okay, alright already. Yes, I nearly died from trying to hear dolphins, I nearly died trying to destroy that bubble thing at Dunlath, or when I was taken with Unicorn Fever. I know you saved me from the Spidrens and there's other times thrown in the as well. I know this, Numair. But I have to do this." Her sea eyes caught his ebony ones and held them, almost hypnotic in their ethereal color. "It would be like me telling you not to go because I worry too much. And I do, don't say I don't. I worry every time you go out. What if someone were to create a simu… sima… sime— "

"Simulacra." There was a hint of laughter in his voice this time.

Daine smiled up at him. "That thing," she said. "What if someone were to create one of those and you didn't know? They could distract you long enough to come up behind you. And don't say they couldn't," she added with a worried glare. "I've come up behind you enough times to know that when you're fixed on your magic, you're deaf to the world."

Numair sighed and wrapped his arms around her waist, picking her up to hide his face in the crook of her shoulder. Daine knew that something was really, really bothering him; he only did that when he wanted to escape from the world and hide away. He'd only done it a handful of times, but they were enough to tell her something was very, very wrong.

The last time had been when she'd nearly been killed by the Spidrens, after falling down that deep ravine. She hadn't thought that she would survive it, but after crashing into several trees and plunging into deep water, she'd lived; only to be captured by Spidrens who'd been about to either take her to Ozorne or eat her. Before she'd known it, one of the giant beasts exploded, and in its wake was Numair. After saving her, kissing her, and admitting that he loved her, he'd curled her into his body, wrapping his entire frame around hers so that she couldn't even move her head. She hadn't known how much he'd felt for her until he'd buried his face against the crook of her neck and just rocked there on the cavern floor. They'd stayed like that until he'd fallen asleep, and even then his long body hadn't moved an inch. She'd had to sooth him _in his sleep_ until his muscles were relaxed enough to let her nestle comfortably against him.

"Numair, what's going on? What has you so upset? Talk to me." She wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist, trying to reassure him that she was alright.

"I've had these dreams, Daine. Like when you were attacked by that Unicorn, but different. I keep seeing you when you were trapped in that net the Spidrens had in the ravine. I can't… I can't explain why, but I feel like something terrible is about to happen. _Nothing bad can happen to you_, Daine." Those words were torn from him, she felt it, felt the tears fighting to surface. _He's really scared_, she wondered.

"Numair, look at me." She didn't give him a choice, leaning back far enough to take his face between her hands and lift it up to hers. "I'll stay close to you, if that will make you feel better. I'll stick right by your side. I promise." She kissed him then, softly telling him how much she loved him.

As if torn from the steely grasp he'd kept himself in, his kiss was wild, his arms tightening around her and his legs taking them to the bed in swift strides. She moaned, feeling is weight pressing down on her and his lips devouring hers with a lack of control that was shocking. His hands raced over her, ripping clothes in an effort to be skin to skin. Daine was just as bad, the wildness in him calling to the wild magic in her, and she shredded his clothes from him, while in some rational part in her mind made sure not to harm him.

They rolled on the bed, out of control, stripping clothing off like cotton candy and feasting on the flesh that was revealed. Numair ripped the layers of her breast band off and sank his teeth and lips to her womanly curves, licking, sucking and biting until she was writhing underneath him. In a burst of strength she rolled them both and tore his loincloth away and wrapped her hand around his shaft, making him shout and arch off the bed. When her fingers brushed over the tip and underneath the head at the same time he growled savagely and pinned her beneath him, her arms stretched over her head. Her body bowed up and her ankles locked at the base of his spine. His lips bruised hers as his length thrust into her body and they both cried out.

Their love was furious, awesome, the sound of flesh meeting flesh and harsh breathing sprinkled with rough endearments were the only noises to be heard. Her body wound tighter and she felt like she'd shatter at any second when he thrust hard, fast and sheathed himself to the hilt inside of her. Daine screamed and her body flew into million of pieces, the muscles of her walls clamping around Numair. Thrusting harder, he followed seconds later and his agonized groan came at the tail of her cry.

Numair and Daine panted against one another, her hands still clutching his wide shoulders, his lips still pressed against her delicate collar bone. When he could gather the strength he lifted his head and looked into her smug, cat-contented eyes. "Does that explain it?" he asked roughly, groaning as he rolled them both so she lay sprawled across him.

Daine nuzzled the underside of his jaw, nipping a little. Finally she sighed and rested her head on his chest, curling her hand over his heart. "I know how you feel, Numair. It's the same as every time you're called off to fight and I'm forced to stay. I promise that I will stick to you like a second skin, but I have to do this. I wouldn't be me if I didn't fight with my friends-my family." She looked up into his sparkling black eyes and smiled gently. "I'll be here for you, Numair. I promise."

Numair cursed again. Why had he buckled? _After-glows_, he cursed. He was too old for that kind of—Daine caught his sleeve and raised an eyebrow. He must've been muttering again. He sighed and looked up from her mesmerizing eyes, wishing he could just hold his ground. How was it that she wormed her way through his defenses and twisted him around her little finger? And why in the name of Shakith did he find that endearing? Daine cleared her throat and Numair felt a redness creep up from under his collar and stain his cheeks. He hadn't mumbled so much since he was a student.

He was about to say something to her when her head whipped around. "Stormwings!" she cried. "And _not_ friendly ones!"

"Is there such a thing?" Raoul yelled back, and the Riders laughed. _Leave it to Raoul to make anything seem like child's play_, Numair thought with a chuckle. Daine readied her bow and Numair's hands began to pulse with magic just as a Stormwing could be seen. The front row-consisting of Raoul, Alanna, Buri and Evin- tensed, while the back row- Onua, Sarge, and the other Riders- shifted into a better defending stance. Numair and Daine, who were sandwiched in between, moved closer together.

"Why, hello there," it called, but the normally friendly greeting was fouled by the terror the Stormwing spread with glee and the evilness in its eyes. "I hear that there are some tasty mortals here to dine upon. Come, my pretties, and we shall dine with you."

"We know your clan, Stormwing. The Razor Skies do not wish peace," Daine yelled, between the first and second lines with Numair.

"Stormwing, if your battalion does not admit surrender, under orders of the King of Tortall you are sentenced to death. What say you?" It amazed Numair that Raoul could turn from jokester to serious knight as he did. And frighteningly well, he thought.

"King? I know no king. Your kind dies in the flash of an eye. Why should one such as I bow to a fly?" he giggled and the sound scraped against Numair's ears; he wondered what it must do to Daine's. Looking over out of the corner of his eye he could just catch a wince, but she didn't move a muscle. _That's my girl._

"Then you have chosen death." The knight's voice was final.

Suddenly Stormwings appeared out of nowhere, encasing the Riders from the front and back. The battle raged as the Riders spread outward, giving each other more room to maneuver. Daine, as promised, stuck to Numair's side like oil on canvas, keeping the immortal predators off him while he worked spells to defend Riders who were injured in the sudden ambush.

A shout was heard and Numair and Daine spun to see a Stormwing had magically 'popped' himself right in front of Raoul with a blinding flash. The knight rolled instinctively, coming off his horse while the loyal beast reared at the ugly immortal in defiance. While the man was still momentarily blinded Numair saw the Stormwing laugh in a sickening high-pitched squeal and angle down to finish the knight off. Numair himself instinctively ran, running with his hands out to protect his friend. The evil creature's head jerked up and his laugh was triumphant as he burst to pieces.

The mage didn't have time to dissect that last look, but the feeling in the pit of his stomach told him he didn't need to. He whirled around to face Daine, who was aiming for a rather nasty Stormwing. Numair had a moment of horror, a split second of time, before the glowing green/white threads wrapped around her arms and legs. He didn't think; his magic burst out of him, wrapping around her tighter than the skeins of web to mold against her skin. The Spidren tugged; Numair felt the pull like something trying to rip his own arms and legs off. His shout echoed and Daine turned to see him totally focused on her. She turned and saw the noose-like threads and copper fire poured into her, the horses of the humans pushing magic her way. The threads wobbled as if being strung tighter and then plucked as a guitar's, then burst into millions of pieces.

The Stormwings, sensing their upper hand was lost, flew up, then disappeared in a blinding flash once more. Daine stumbled forward and Numair was instantly there to catch her, already running to grasp her so tight around the shoulders she squeaked.

"_Now_ do you believe me?" he shouted, and the cheering Riders paused to stare. "You idiot, you were almost killed. _Again_!" His fright overcame his caution of keeping their relationship a secret, and when her head tilted up he kissed every inch of skin he could find, until he reached her lips and all of the fear and love and relief poured into his kiss, into her. Before the kiss could even really get started he tore away and his black eyes burned into her blue-grey ones. "You're marrying me. Say yes or yes, because either way, it's yes. That's it. I'll spend the rest of our lives convincing you it was the right thing, but I'm done waiting, done wasting time when you could die. It'll be a short engagement, and a long, happy marriage. Tell me sweet, what do you say?"

Numair watched in horror as tears filled her eyes; he'd pushed too far. His heart crumbled before she nodded her head and threw her arms around him. "Yes, you dolt! Yes, of course!" Triumph rushed through him and his lips crushed down on hers in a joyous laugh. She made a slight noise and then her lips were moving against his. A sound started in the background, building until the two drew back to figure out what was going on. Reality sank in, and they realized that the Riders that weren't gaping at them were cheering and clapping. Buri looked like she was grumbling as she handed over something that looked suspiciously like a couple of gold crowns to Alanna, who looked smug. After a couple of seconds Raoul stepped forward, clapping the two on their shoulders and then moving on.

"Okay, sweetlings, show's over! Move along now, or your rump will feel it when my boot connects with it!" Sarge was rounding up the Riders exactly like he had when they were trainees, herding them like lambs. Evin stopped by them and kissed Daine on the cheek before winking at Numair and trotting off.

And that's how the cat got out of the bag.


	8. DaineNumair3

A tall man paced the hallway, black magic spilling out of his pores and permeating the room with fear and guilt. He shouldn't have done this. It was all his fault! If he'd just made that stupid potion…

A giant hand clapped down on his shoulder, startling him. Hazel eyes that were more green seemed to twinkle into his. "Easy, lad," George Cooper said in his lilting voice. "There's nothin' to worry over. She'll be fine. Plenty o' lasses have had babes before, and this one's no different. Well, aside the fact that she's _your _lass, and it's _your_ babe," he chuckled. "Relax. Daine's a tough little thing. She'll pull through, cursing you the whole way." This made his other companion laugh.

Jonathan of Conté stepped forward and planted himself in front of Numair to stop the incessant pacing that was wearing a path in the mage's floor. "Numair, Alanna and Thayet are in there helping her. They've both had children and both are fine."

"Speak for yourself," George muttered. "When Alanna had Thom she nearly died." At Jon's glare and the paleness sweeping through Numair's face, he bit his tongue. "But that's different. And she pulled through."

"What George is _trying_ to say," Jon couldn't contain the chuckle, "is that Daine will be fine. You just need to sit down and have some tea, and know that should any complications arise, which I doubt they will, Alanna is an extremely powerful healer and can deal with any problem that could come to pass. Numair," his hand came to the mage's arm and gripped in reassurance, "Daine will be fine. Alanna cares about her too much to let anything happen to your wife, and our Wildmage is too stubborn to let anything get in her way."

Numair smiled at this and sank into a chair, and a grinning Evin pressed a glass into his hands. "Drink up, mage. I have a feeling that we're about to get an earful about how your parents were never married, if she's anything like my sister. Oh, that woman had a foul mouth when her first was born!" Evin kept Numair distracted while the women and healers were busy with Daine, telling him stories about how his sister cursed his brother-in-law during labor, then how the baby turned out to be a hellion by age two, and how Evin now had to submit himself to becoming a pack horse for a squealing five year old whenever he visited. Numair laughed and relaxed against the wall while George and Jonathan put in some stories as well, putting him at enough ease that he took a deep swallow of the liquid in the glass—and choked. Fire burned down his throat and watered his eyes.

"Mithros, Mynoss and Shakith what did the Graveyard Hag promise you to make you put _that_ in there?" he wheezed as George's hand came to pound heartily on his back.

Evin grinned unrepentantly. "Trust me, when she gets to the hard part, you'll need it."

"I will _not_, and kindly take this… this… foul concoction away before it kills me. I'd like to see my child, thank you very much!" He glared at the man, who just laughed and gave it to a passing maid.

A shout echoed in the air and Numair's blood went cold. He heard voices speaking on the other side of the door in low, soothing voices. The only thing he paid attention for was Daine, and he leapt to his feet as her cry of pain ripped through him again. George and Jonathan caught him before he could reach the door. "Let me go! I've got to get to her!" The gaunt man struggled quite well against two heavier ones, but finally Evin managed to get his attention.

"Listen to me. She's going to need you _after_ her labor. Right now, she'll just take the part of you that produced the kid and," he made a gesture with his hand, fisting it, twisting and pulling in a fashion that made all three of the older men wince and shudder in horror, "_that_ will happen. Trust me, you'll be able to coddle her much better _after_ the baby is born." With his help, the three men were able to pin the thinner one to a seat and keep him there.

Numair listened, imagining horrible situations going on the other side of the wall at his back. The labor was fine, but she was in pain—no, the babe was stillborn—no, the babe hadn't turned right and the babe _and_ Daine were dying! The mage's body shook each time Daine's scream of pain tore through the air. As time stretched on the two older men looked at each other over Numair's head, starting to become worried. Even Evin couldn't contain his angst when the time came and passed when the babe should have been born and Numair let into the room.

It was hours later that the door finally opened, and Numair lurched to his feet and ran to Alanna in an instant, eyes wide. "She's fine," the Lioness said heartily. "The babe needed a little… persuasion, that's all. As stubborn as her mother, no doubt." She grinned at the mage's relief and let him in. George came over and put his hands on her chin, tilting it up to meet his kiss.

"I love you, lass. Tell me the truth, is she well?"

Alanna nodded, resting against her husband's much larger bulk. "She's fine. Honestly, she pulled through amazingly well. The babe actually hadn't turned, but everything went well, with the magic of the healer's and with a little of my help. Truthfully, Daine did extraordinarily well. Never even cursed Numair, sweet girl." She grinned up at George, and they were both remembering how the entire room had heard curses that would make a sailor blush when the twins were born, while George had been praying to every deity he knew to keep her safe. George grinned back and kissed her again.

Numair rushed forward, looking at his glowing wife and new mother. "Daine! Are you alright?" His long hands took her face between them and he looked for the slightest sign of pain.

"Numair, I'm wonderful! Look, look at our baby! Look at Sarralyn. Sarralyn Arra Salmalin." She laughed. "I couldn't figure out any other name other than Marra that would be part of your family, too, so she's _Arra_, without the M in Arram." Her eyes shone with love as she held up their baby girl, wrapped tightly in a green bundle. The infant opened her eyes—and sneezed. The baby was gone, and in its place was a kitten, a calico with bright blue eyes. Numair laughed and took the blanket-swathed newborn, his eyes burning as an enormous emotion spread through him and he looked at his daughter, now in cat form, but his baby all the same.

"Darling, she's perfect." He looked to Daine and saw that she had the same look in her eyes. The two grinned and Numair kissed the kitten's adorable nose before handing her back to her mother, who laughed and used her wild magic to make their baby a baby once more. Now he could see that she had his cheeks, the blackness of his hair, and a combination of his eyes and Daine's, a dark blue that was almost black with grey flecks here and there. The tiny girl obviously had her mother's nose, mouth, coloring and the curling of her hair. Numair had only seen one thing more beautiful; Daine.

Leaning close, he brushed his lips against hers and looked into her eyes. "I love you, Veralidaine Salmalin. Even when our bed is invaded by migrating duck-moles and hedgehogs and even the occasional squirrel. Even when I wake up to find my wife has disappeared and in her place a wolf or a horse or an utterly unique beast rests. I love you, Magelet, and I love our daughter."

Daine's eyes filled with tears of happiness at everything her life had brought about. She'd been hunted and exiled from her home, only to be taken in by those who truly were her family. From there she'd gone on adventures that few could ever dream of, but the greatest of all still lay ahead of her, in raising her family with the one person she knew she could give her entire heart to, and find on in return. Her ocean eyes were misted over when they raised to his and she kissed him joyfully, mindful of their little girl between them. Daine drew back and looked him square on, smiling with a radiance that promised happiness for all of their years together. "I love you too, Numair. I promise you'll always know exactly how much I love you, and that you'll never have any reason to doubt me." She kissed him softly, lovingly, and received everything she gave to him, and more. "But for now," she whispered, resting her head against his shoulder, "I would very much appreciate it if you blew the candles out so I could rest."

Laughing, he lifted his hands, and snuffed the flames out—along with every other fire within the surrounding miles. As protests sounded all around them, they laughed, and knew that everyone else knew exactly who was behind the darkness. For them, everything was at perfect, everything was exactly where it was supposed to be. And _that_ is the magic of life.

**A/N: **That's all for Daine and Numair! Okay, so it got a _lot_ fluffy at the end, but I think those two need fluff without the life/death situations every now and then! Alrighty, next up: Jon and Thayet! (Don't worry GiantKilleress, Raoul and Buri are after them, I promise!)


	9. JonThayet1

Jonathan of Conté stood near the hearth, elbows on the ledge and head in his hands. "I couldn't get away sooner," he said in a low tone, too tired to raise his voice. "We don't have parties because we're in mourning, but these… '_quiet get-togethers_'" he spat the words out in distaste, "take hours, all the same." He closed his eyes and opened them wearily when the man came over next to him. This man had honey hair with gold streaks, where Jon had midnight black with blue tinges. Where Jon's eyes were a startling blue of sunlit sapphires, the man's were a hazel color with more of a rich green tone than the earthy brown. Both were tan, but the second man's skin was darker, lines from laughing and squinting into the sun around eyes that always glinted with ill-contained mischief.

George Cooper, known in the world of thieves as the Rogue, King of the Court of the Rogue, mortal enemy of Lord Provost, looked at his king-to-be with what Jon knew was censure. "You should've waited." His lilting voice eased some of the knots in Jon's stomach even as it clearly spoke in reprimand. "She fell asleep in her chair, poor thing. She's weary. They all are." Jon knew who 'she' was: Alanna of Trebond-Olua, knight of the King's Court, known in battle as The Lioness, friend and former lover of both men in the room.

Some time ago Jon had asked-_no, he had assumed_, he thought in his head- that she would marry him, but pride and temper, something that both possessed in spades, drove them apart. Jon had gone back to court, flaunting that he could have any woman at his feet, and she had gone off to far-away places. While Jon didn't harbor any ill feelings, he wondered if she did. He knew for certain that she had grown to 'know' George, but Jon approved that immensely. Jon had always known that George loved her, and Jon had a feeling that while Alanna didn't want to acknowledge it, she loved the thief king back.

Jon sighed, coming back to the present. "And there's little rest for my lady knight here." Even now there were rumors spreading about once again, about her fight with Roger when she first became a knight, about being his squire, about little things that just seemed so ridiculous! Jon took a breath and listened to what George was saying. If he was to be king, he needed to learn to deal with this sort of thing and still be in the present.

"Does he know she's back?" Jon knew George was referring to Roger this time.

"He knows. I just don't- what?" George had gone stiff. No, not stiff—tense. Then he relaxed and a small smile played across his face while his eyes were the slightest bit sad. Without a word he opened the door, bowed, and pushed in the lady knight. With the blink of an eye the thief lord was gone, closing the door behind him. The awkward silence that stretched between the two former lovers was filled with questions.

Suddenly she moved forward and Jon braced for her temper to strike out. Instead, she knelt and bowed her head, leaving the king-to-be reeling with shock and wonder. "My liege. I am yours to command."

"You're sure, Alanna?" he asked in a tender tone, putting his hands on her hair.

She met his eyes with a strong look. "Until death and after, Jonathan."

The poignant feeling of being fully accepted as a friend again moved through him with the force of a sudden tide. "I accept your fealty, Sir Alanna. I accept, and I vow to return fealty with fealty, honor with honor, until death and beyond it." With a laugh he lifted her to her feet and kissed both of her cheeks. "You don't know what it means to have you home." The instant the words were out the tears he'd withheld for so long burst free and he covered his face. "He killed himself, Alanna. He made it look like a hunting accident, but it wasn't. Oh, gods!" A sob tore through his chest and rocked both of them as she drew him close in comfort and just held him. "Why did I have to lose both of them?"

Alanna, gods bless her, held him, rocked back and forth, shushed him and wept with him. When he'd finally calmed down, they talked about her travels. It was then that she told him she did, in fact, have the Dominion Jewel. The enormity of those words forced Jonathan into a chair. She really had it. Perhaps with it, the fingers of doubt spreading through the land-doubt of his rule- would stop for good. He took a breath just as George reentered the room.

"All's well, then?" Alanna and Jon shared a smile. "At last," George sighed, and while his tone was happy Jon saw a flicker in his eyes that remained sad. Instantly knowing the cause, Jon let him continue until he could catch his attention. "I never felt right when you two were on the outs with each other. We were havin' tea," he said to Alanna. "Will you join us?" She nodded and the thief poured a third cup. Jonathan caught his eye and shook his head. A momentary pause and a quickly disguised look surprise mixed with a large dash of hope and delight was all that could be seen from Jon. It was enough that Jon had to suppress the urge to grin. He knew _exactly_ what was on the Rogue's mind in that instant.

After explaining the tea to Alanna, who stared at it with distrust, Jon held his cup up. "To old friends, the best of friends," he winked at George, who Jon could have sworn blushed.

"So mote it be," Alanna replied, and drained the tea quickly. It was _not_ to her taste.

"Hear, hear," George added and sipped his after giving it a cursory look for poison. Jon supposed it was automatic habit.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" the low voice caught Jonathan's attention and drew it to the door. His eyes widened and he choked on the few drops of tea he'd attempted to swallow.

"Great Merciful Mother!" he wheezed. George clapped him on the back with a grin on his face.

In the doorway stood the most beautiful woman to ever be created, Jon knew without a doubt. Clad in a simple night gown, delicate hands with long fingers tried to hide dainty bare feet that graced the floor beneath the bottom of the nightdress. She was tall, slender but with curves lovingly shaped by the Goddess's own hands. Hair was spun from the deepest depths of a forest, a brown so dark it was nearly black but shone with fiery tints . The face was flawless, a deep cream in the firelight, with rounded cheekbones that melted seamlessly into a soft jaw line. Her mouth was truly spectacular, curved and plush and a soft rose color. His gaze traveling up a strong nose for such a soft face, his gaze was caught and held by the most wonderful eyes he'd ever beheld. The brown wasn't brown, it was liquid chocolate, molten earth, the Goddess's own, for sure! Those eyes flicked away from him nervously, trying to arrange herself properly. Jon thought she would be beautiful in a peasant's clothes, or-to his blush- nothing at all.

Thayet tried to hide herself beneath the all-too-revealing gown, feeling a fool. _Stupid cat_, she muttered. Said traitor sashayed to Alanna, who was concealing a grin behind her hand. Thayet noticed with interest that George was staring at not her, but the knight, joy spreading into his eyes at some realization. "Faithful woke me up, and then I couldn't sleep," she tried to explain while backing out the door.

Moving faster than she would have thought possible for such a large man, George was behind her and pulling her into the room. "We were havin' a bit of tea," he soothed, closing the door. "There's a seat by the fire- over next to Jon." _Jon! As in _Prince_ Jonathan? _Thayet's mind scrambled. Oh, nonono. She couldn't meet him like this.

Swiftly the king-to-be stood and gracefully walked to her, taking her hand. Her startled, unsure gaze met his and was trapped by the blazing cobalt. Those eyes searched hers as the hand he held was brought to his lips. A blush roared through her face, she was sure, as lightning traveled through her at just that simple brush. Trying to hide it, she quickly withdrew her hand and held her head high. "We haven't been introduced." She heard a chuckle and flicked a glance at George, who was sharing a look with Alanna now, both of them sharing some sort of inside merriment.

Off balance, Jon felt the heat creeping up his neck and into his ears, then his cheeks. He heard a noise and glanced first at Alanna, then George. Both were grinning from ear to ear and he reddened even deeper.

"Thayet jian Wilima," George's deep brogue resonated with laughter ill-contained, "may I present Jonathan of Conté? Are you officially 'King' now, Jon, or does that wait till the coronation?"

The Rogue's attempt to settle their nerves was unheeded by both royals. "Does the introduction meet your standards, your Highness?" He asked, meeting jaunty look for jaunty look, dry tone for dry tone.

He watched as she curtsied to the exact degree that was proper for a princess meeting a prince, but noticed with an inner laugh that her head remained up and her eyes challenged his. "I am 'Highness' no longer, your Majesty. My father is dead, and I am an exile. I hope to become your Majesty's loyal, low-born subject." She inclined her head while the thought, '_Like that could _ever_ happen, darling_,' traveled through his mind.

A noise startled them both, an odd sigh that originated from Alanna. Jon and Thayet looked over at her at the same time to see her staring at Thayet's curtsy and instantly everyone in the room knew what it was about; Sir Alanna had never been one of ladylike manners.

Thayet and Jon looked at each other, and the princess began to giggle, then laugh, and Jon broke into laughter as well, holding his hand and drawing her to her feet. He led her to the chair next to his, letting go of her hand reluctantly, and sat down. George sat not far from them, directly across from Alanna, and the four of them began speaking as if they were old friends, starting with the story behind Thayet's coming to Tortall.

By the time the great tower clock had chimed midnight, the four of them were immersed in conversation of all sorts. Hearing it, and seeing the Lioness's yawn, George stood and walked over to her to hold out is hand.

"Yer tired, lass. Don't deny it," he said as she opened her mouth to do that exactly. He grinned. "Come on, Alanna. Ye know yer not goin' t'win when ye can barely keep yer eyes open." He turned to the two royals and bowed. "Yer Highnesses," he said, and with a wink Thayet he drew a mumbling knight away.

Thayet turned to Jonathan and grinned. "He's head over heals for her, isn't he?"

His gaze moved slowly over her face, lingering on her lips. "And she for him," him murmured.

Belatedly realizing they were alone, Thayet stood up quickly and curtsied just as nimbly. "I do believe I should also be going to my chambers, my Prince." Her eyes locked on the floor until his hand cupped under her chin and drew it up.

Taking her hand and bringing it up-and in doing so causing her to stand- he placed it against his chest, over his heart, and kept his palm over the back of her hand. His other wrapped around her waist, slowly, noting that she had gone stiff and unmoving. "I will not hurt you," he promised softly, his eyes locked with hers. Keeping her gaze steady, he leaned closer, until their lips were nearly touching. "Kiss me, Thayet."

The whisper sank into the fear in her mind and set it aside. Still nervous, she hesitantly brushed his lips with hers and the brought her head back, looking at him expectantly. She heard a soft chuckle as he brought her body even closer to his and felt his mouth brush hers as he spoke softly, gently, to her. "What is it about you that captivates me, Princess?" Her eyes fluttered and closed, her lips parted as strange sensations made their way through her body. "Your eyes are pools of color, your skin so soft it melts against mine, but it's not just that." He drew back to look at her, loving the clouds that had sifted over her eyes, making them dazed and soft. "Your mind is wonderful, quick, sharp, but your heart softens it." He pressed her hand against him, letting her feel his heart's erratic beat thundering against her palm. "Your heart and your strength are what make you who you are. Your wisdom, kindness, openness to life. You captivate me, Thayet. And I don't want to fight it. Kiss me, Princess. Let me know who you are."

His kind words before had made her smile, but these… these brought her out of her daze and she saw the look shining in his eyes, the respect and wonder. Any hesitation left and she kept one hand over his heart while the other reached to sift into the hair at the nape of his neck and she pressed her lips to his, wondering herself at the enormity of what was happening.

Jonathan groaned at her softness, wondering at how giving of herself she was. Here was a woman who knew how to lead, but listen. She was strong, yet supple, wise but kind, sure and compassionate. She was everything he'd asked for, and more. His heart hammered against hers as he kept the kiss light, enticing. With a soft sigh she offered her mouth to his, accepting when his tongue stroked hers languidly. Now it was his turn to sigh as he drew back, kissing her softly once more before leaning his forehead against hers. "Thayet," he whispered, and she smiled up at him.

He sighed again and drew back further, taking her hand and tucking it into the crook of his elbow. "I will escort you to your rooms before I do something shall both enjoy," he said formally, but his eyes glittered into hers and she laughed, knowing he was trying to be chivalrous despite the fact that he clearly wanted her.

"I thank you for the honor, your Majesty," she chuckled, and let him lead her to her chambers. They reached the door and she turned to him, one hand wisping over his cheek with the tips of her fingers. Thayet leaned into him, standing on her toes and gently brushing her lips against his. "Good night, Jonathan," she whispered, and slipped into her room.


	10. JonThayet2

**_A/N_**_: I'm so sorry! Man, this has taken me FOREVER to complete! And I wasn't sure _if I should do it this way or as Jon asking her to marry him, but you'll find out soon enough! Hope you enjoy!

* * *

King Jonathan IV of Conté was acting very odd. Those who knew him would say he'd been possessed by some kind of demon, perhaps, but no one was there in his chambers to observe him—a fact which he greatly appreciated, indeed. Jon sat down, stared at his hands, then abruptly stood up to pace the floors of his personal study, then stopped, looked down at his hands again, and sank into a chair. This process had been going on for well over an hour.

The king sat down once more, closing his eyes tight and clenching his fists. The image of her just last night raced through his mind, scalding his eyes and making his throat tighten. Memories of everything that had happened played through his mind, tormenting him.

_She'd looked beautiful in a gown of rich molten brown, the exact shade of her eyes. It was simple, following a long, fluid design that came to a V between her perfect curves. It continued down her torso, clinging like a second skin, to the top of her hips, then fell fluidly to the floor. It had been daring, exotic, and drove him crazy the entire night. He had wanted so badly to just take her in his arms and sweep her away, but duty had called for appropriate distance. He'd hated it, but had known he'd have to keep himself restrained until he could find the right time to _

_Sometime during the endless dances he'd come to realize that he could no longer see her, and for some reason the thought scared him. He'd ended the song with a bow to his partner and went to Alanna, who would surely know—but the knight did not. Panic had settled in, driving him to find her, although he had known she was most likely just powdering her nose, and he'd gone to the gardens to search for her. When Jon could not find her there, he'd cloaked himself with a spell to hide him from sight and rushed to her room, thinking she might have been upset by something, or simply become too tired. _

_Well, he had found her—he wished he hadn't. If he'd been with her all night, if he'd watched over her better, if he'd… but none of that mattered now. The memory of bursting through the door to find her sprawled on the floor, eyes wide open, staring blindly, would haunt him for a very long time. The panic had grown in to sheer terror as he'd raced forward, wrapping his arms under her shoulders and knees to lift her up and place her on the bed. Somehow a sane thought had entered his brain and he'd created a speech bubble to call for Alanna, not explaining but telling her to run to Thayet's chambers immediately. The Lioness had entered and doubtless seen a pathetic sight; Jon had been weeping, shaking her shoulders, trying to heal her but unable to, there was no wound, and he'd been pleading her to wake up. _

_Gently, Jon remembered she had moved him aside gently, she had knelt on the bed and gathered her magic to her fingertips and sparked it like a purple lightning bolt to the dead princess's body, making it rise and fall. Nothing. A second, third, forth time, and no result. The sorrow in the knight's eyes had nearly killed him, but he'd begged her to just take his power-all of it- and use it. Just once more. Something about his broken eyes must have made her agree to it, and Alanna had reached inside of him to take a firm hold of his sapphire magic and draw it into her, then release it all at once into Thayet. _

_A ragged gasp had torn the silence to shreds as Thayet's eyes shut closed and then flew open and she curled into a ball. "Thayet!" Her name had echoed in the room as Jon leaned over her, taking her wrists in his hands and bringing them away from her head, uncovering her and peering into her eyes. "Thayet, sweetling, look at me. It's me, it's Jon, I'm right here. Please, darling, look at me, see me, you're safe now." His eyes had frantically searched hers and she'd finally seemed to recognize what was going on. With a heartbreaking sob the lovely princess had thrown her arms around the king's neck and gripped tightly, shaking against him in terror. Neither had noticed their exhausted-looking friend stand and make her way to the door, where she was caught by her worried husband. _

_"Thayet, what happened? Speak to me, please." He had gathered her close and stroked her hair, kissing every inch of her face and brushing away her tears with his thumbs, only to wrap her in a blanket and sit with her cradled in his lap when the sobs only died to tremors that shook both of them. "Sweetheart, tell me what happened. Whoever did this has to be accounted for." That was a diplomatic way to say it, he'd thought. Rage had started to fill him, fanned by fear that such a thing could happen again when he wasn't looking._

_"D-do-don't know. I just rem-ember being ha-handed a drink by some nob-ble, and I remember that person was l-l-looking strangely and then there was… pain. So m—uch pain… I ran. I don't re-re-re," he stopped her to take a breath and let it out slowly. "I don't remember anything e-else." _

_"What did this noble look like, Thayet?" His eyes had looked straight into hers, compelling her to tell him who the plotter was so he could kill the man._

_"She—"_

_"She?" He'd looked stunned._

_"Women can p-plot too," she'd retorted, and some of her old flame had come into her eyes at what she knew was going through his head._

_"I have no doubt of that now, sweet. Tell me what she looked like. Please. This is very important to me."_

_"She had… a pale dress, peach colored, and… gold hair, straight, and long, halfway down her back," her brows had knit together in concentration._

_"What about her eyes?" Already a picture was forming, and he didn't like the woman in it._

_"Pale, blue or grey. She was tall, and thin, built like a willow, rather than with curves. I'm sorry, I can't remember much more than that." Thayet had buried her head into his shoulder and he'd crooned to her until she'd fallen asleep. It was only after she'd drifted that he'd gotten up and placed her in his room, tucking her into his bed before leaving to speak with a certain person of rogue-like qualities._

Jon heard a noise, snapping him out of his reverie. "I believe _this_ is who ye'd be lookin' for, lad," the tall ex-Rogue stated with a wicked grin. You'd have to know him quite well to notice that it wasn't humor that lit his eyes, but the promise of quick retaliation should he decide the punishment given to the noble lady wasn't enough.

The woman he shoved in was stunningly beautiful—if one hadn't seen Princess Thayet, that is. She'd once been the crowning glory of Tortall, the most beautiful woman in the world, and she'd loved it. It'd even been rumored that she would marry Jonathan, but he'd met Thayet and plans had changed.

Jasmine of Horsehound Gates was tall, slim, with the face of an angel and eyes of deceptively soft blue-grey. The soft lips had once brushed against his innocently and wonderfully, but now they were pulled back in disgust. "I have told this… this… _peasant_ to stop manning my person, but he refused! My king, might I ask what this is about?" Jasmine had changed tactics quickly when she'd seen the tick in Jonathan's jaw, going from outraged noble to humble servant flawlessly.

"I have it under my information that you have attempted to poison the exiled Princess Thayet jian Wilima, who is under my care after her escape from her war-torn country. Do you plead guilty to this crime?"

The only sign was a slight flicker in the lips, but her eyes remained level with his. "No, your Highness. Of course not. She is an honored guest."

"Oh, I'm afraid she's a bit more so. You see, I've already asked for her to become my bride—your queen." A one-sided smile graced his lips as contempt raged through the both of them; for him towards the lying she-devil in front of him; for her towards the she-devil that had come and stolen the throne that was owed to her! Owed, she knew it!

"That bitch is not worthy of—"

"If you ever, _ever_, call Princess Thayet anything other than her title, I will have your tongue removed. Am I understood?" His normally smooth voice was ice cold, each word spoken precisely and in a dangerously soft way. The woman's eyes widened and she nodded quickly, knowing she had best play it by his rules, lest she not live to play any longer. "Good. You will go to your seaside manor and remain there. If I even hear _rumor_ that you are near the Princess, you will not live to regret it. Am I understood?" She nodded once more, paling remarkably for her already white skin, and Jon swept past her, giving George a slight nod of his head as he passed.

The noble would not live to threaten his Thayet. It would be the one thing in all of his ruling that he would feel remorse over, but he also knew that if he hadn't, she would have continued to go after his wife-to-be. He smiled as he pulled out the box that had rested inside his pocket the entire night. He might be sentencing one life to death, but damn if he wasn't going to give his life to someone as well. _Always balance death with life_, Alanna had told him once, and he honored those words to this day.

It was time he gave Thayet more of himself than his words and his time. He wanted to give her his heart, and after she'd nearly been taken from him, he wouldn't waste any more time.

The rest of the castle would wonder the next day why they saw the King smiling like a fool, until they all saw the ring that rested on the Princess's finger. After that, no one guessed what had made the king so happy these fine days, just as they never wondered about the dreamy look in Princess Thayet's eyes.

It was a royal match destined for happiness, indeed.


End file.
